


Ruined, My Love

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, Dirty Talk, Gags, Hair-pulling, M/M, Marking, Messy, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s supposed to be giving a speech, but Harry has a little something to give him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruined, My Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for August's Daily Deviant prompts of coprolalia and salirophilia. If those two kinks didn’t scream Drarry (at least in my mind), I don’t know what does. *grins* Thanks to M & M for alpha and beta; you guys are always awesome!! Also, I really must have a thing about Drarry and sex at public functions. As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Harry Potter, I just like to write about them.

“Potter!”

Draco’s tone is scandalized— _irritated_ —and it makes Harry hot under the collar immediately. He loves the swift scowl that pins him, the way Draco’s gaze narrows down, grey eyes flashing with bright silver under the moonlight. “What?” Harry asks easily, nudging Draco back against the tree, pushing up his robe with a knee between Draco’s thighs. “Do you have a problem?”

“I am _supposed_ to be giving a speech,” Draco hisses. “Which you _know_ since you arranged this particular charity ball in order to bring my contributions into public view. Our _joint venture_. My _speech_ , wherein we show that it is possible for former enemies to work together.” He grunts as Harry shifts, his thigh finding just the right spot against Draco’s burgeoning erection. “ _Potter_.”

“At least part of you is not protesting,” Harry murmurs. “In fact, I might almost think you’re enjoying this rough treatment. And you might like more of it.”

“This is not the time, nor the pl—” Draco’s words are muffled by Harry’s mouth, by the way his tongue delves into Draco’s mouth, swallowing the words down and stroking until Draco whines, low in his throat, hips pushing back against Harry’s leg, rutting with shallow thrusts.

Harry lets the kiss go, trailing kisses along Draco’s jaw, finding the tender space along his neck where he can suck a mark, bruising pale skin and leaving his claim for any to see if Draco tilts his head just so. He nips, and Draco moans; heat pools in Harry’s gut at the sound. He loves to make Draco lose control.

“I just want to help,” Harry murmurs against Draco’s skin. He tugs at the robes, pulling enough to expose Draco’s collarbone, tongue lapping along the line of the bone, tickling and teasing before he sucks another mark there. “You’ve been tense all day, and I am going to take you apart until you are boneless.”

“Potter, we can’t…”

Harry chuckles at Draco’s protest, so at odds with the way his hips move, seeking friction. “We can, and we will,” he tells him, tugging the robes just a bit wider. He undoes three buttons on the shirt beneath the robes, pushes them both open enough to find a dusky nipple, dark against skin that shines in the moonlight. Harry captures it with his teeth, tugging lightly until Draco cries out. 

“I’m going to start with your nipples,” Harry whispers, exhaling to ghost warmth across Draco’s chest. “I’m going to suck on them until the skin around them is red, and I’m going to leave marks across your chest. You bruise so easily that I can see every bite, but no one else is going to know how absolutely debauched you are under your robes.”

He matches words to actions, drawing one taut nipple into his mouth, suckling at it, teasing at the skin around it until it burns hot and warm under his tongue. Draco cries out again, presses one fist against his mouth to try to keep the sound inside as he slumps back against the tree, letting it take his weight.

“You think I’m going to suck your cock next, but I’m not.” Harry trails his tongue back up, kissing and licking his way to Draco’s throat, nuzzling in close. He leans in, letting his own erection press against Draco’s hip, lazily dragging against him, loving the way Draco pushes at him, seeking more. “I’m going to turn you around,” he murmurs. “I’m going to have you put your hands up and hold onto the tree. I don’t care that it’s rough; I want you to hold on so tight that you go back inside with your palms scraped and burning, reminding you of everything we did. Then I’m going to gag you, because by the time I’m done, you’ll be screaming, and I want to hear every muffled sound. But I know you don’t want to be found—we must keep up propriety.” He shifts his voice into something more posh, something that has the resonance of Draco’s smooth tones, and he hears Draco’s breathing catch in response.

Harry smiles against his throat. “Then I’m going to throw your robes up and strip you of everything you have beneath them.” He nips for emphasis. “I’m going to make it so you’re not wearing a fucking stitch under these robes and I’m going to go down on my knees and eat you out until your knees are weak. I’m going to tongue fuck you until you’re begging me to put my cock in you, until you’re fucking _desperate_ for a fuck.”

“Potter…” The whine is deep in Draco’s throat, begging as he tries to thrust against him. Harry lowers his hands to his hips, holds him tight, keeps him from moving, and the whine grows in volume.

“Turn around,” Harry whispers, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He enlarges it, then wads it up, shoving it into Draco’s mouth as he turns. Harry grabs his hands, lifts them high overhead, helps Draco curl his fingers against the rough bark. “There we go, hold on, because I am going to make you lose control. I am going to turn you into a whimpering mess, and you’re going to go back in knowing you have just been so thoroughly fucked. You’ll wear your robes as if you’re dressed properly from the inside out, and your ass will ache, still dripping, and you’ll _know_ that you’re undone. And they’ll look at you, and they’ll see the way you walk, the way you look like someone needed you so badly that they couldn’t wait. The flush on your skin, the marks on your hands, the way your hair still has the marks from my fingers grabbing onto it. They’ll see how beautiful you are for me, and you’ll turn on that Malfoy charm and be so bloody fucking perfect for them. You’ll be on point and pretend that you’re just as neatly done up as when you arrived, and I’ll _know_ what I did to you. And so will you.”

He doesn’t waste time, matching words to actions as he rucks Draco’s robes above his hips. He vanishes Draco’s trousers, then grips the edge of his shirt and tugs, feeling the fabric tear as Draco whimpers. The shirt falls away, followed shortly by the shredded remains of Draco’s pants, and Harry can reach around to feel the heavy thickness of his erection, warm in the chill evening air.

“Fuck, you are so ready for me,” Harry whispers, mouth pressed against the curve of his shoulder. “All you need is for me to open you up, fuck into you. Don’t come until I tell you, Draco. Don’t make a mess of yourself until I’m ready for you to.” He smiles then, sucking another mark into his skin, right at the edge of the collar of his robes. “And you _will_ make a mess.”

Harry wants to make good on his promise, to make Draco lose control here and now. He slides down to his knees, using his hands to push the robes up and out of the way, baring Draco’s pale arse. He nuzzles in close, licking a stripe between his cheeks, finding the puckered rim with his tongue. He has to stretch his hands, fingers still holding the robes against his hips while his thumbs separate Draco’s cheeks, baring him for Harry. He feels Draco quiver under his touch, but his hands stay where Harry put them, and the whine is muffled by the gag.

_Perfect._

Harry takes his time with this, letting his tongue slide around the musky, puckered rim of Draco’s arsehole. He teases at the edges, licking it open slowly until Draco relaxes, pushing back into him, begging for more. Harry is sloppy, soaking Draco’s skin, waiting for him to be slippery enough that Harry can push the pointed tip of his tongue against the rim and feel it open slightly. Draco is tight and puckered, but Harry can soothe him. Relax him. _Ready_ him. 

Once upon a time he couldn’t imagine the intimacy of this act. He never wanted another man to touch him this way, and he couldn’t even think about the idea of doing it himself. Because it _is_ intimate. Almost more intimate than actually fucking, than joining their two bodies together. Which is why he loves it now, the way it brings Draco to his knees, makes him cry out uncontrollably, legs quivering as Harry slowly slides his tongue into him, loosening him up.

Draco’s words are unintelligible, but Harry thinks he might be begging. Thinks the words might be _fuck, Potter_ and he smiles, trying harder with his tongue but not giving Draco anything else, not yet. He licks lower, behind Draco’s balls, then back to his hole as he soaks it with his saliva. He reaches around, stroking Draco’s cock just once, enough to tease him and make him whine long and loud.

“Do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry whispers, and Draco makes a muffled sound of assent. _Please_ again, Harry thinks. He makes words from the noises, a steady stream of _please please please oh fuck please_. “As you wish,” Harry murmurs, and he kisses Draco one more time, tongue teasing him before he steps back.

It doesn’t take long for him to undo his robes and his trousers, drawing his prick out of his pants and slicking himself up with the lube he brought in his pocket for this very purpose. He puts one hand on Draco’s hip to brace himself, threads the other through his hair, gripping him tightly, mussing up the perfect coif. He pulls hard as he thrusts into him, short and sharp and shallow at first, going deeper every time until he bottoms out. “Fuck, Draco,” he whispers, and Draco whimpers in response, pushing his arse back at Harry.

“You feel so fucking good.” Harry anchors himself with his hand in Draco’s hair, the other on his hip, yanking both as he thrusts hard. He pushes him against the tree, feels the way he sways. “You are so fucking good to me,” Harry whispers. “I love how you feel around me, I love how you always take me. No matter what, no matter where, you open right up like you’re meant for my cock. Like you were made to have me inside you. And you love it, don’t you? You love my cock, and you can come on my cock, can’t you? Think you can do it for me, come without me touching you?”

He tilts his hips, trying to find the right spot, fucking harder on every word. His own breath rasps, body tight with trying to hold back. “Come on, Draco. Come on my fucking cock _right now_.”

It’s not that easy, but another few strokes and he feels the moment that Draco breaks, when his entire body goes tense before he spills out, stripes of white painting the tree as Draco groans around the gag. Harry doesn’t even try to hold back, slamming into him once more before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of Draco.

He wraps his arms around him, pulling back from the tree and cradling him close as Draco’s legs fold. Harry disengages carefully and carries them both to the ground, smoothing Draco’s hair and buttoning his robes. He kisses his forehead, his cheek, his nose, then finally his lips, slow and easy, after he pulls out the gag. Draco’s breath comes easily once more, finding a slow and steady pace, finally hitching in a soft sigh.

“I hate you, Potter,” Draco murmurs, and Harry laughs, kissing his cheek.

“You love me. And you’re much less tense, now.”

“I’m also late.” Draco grumbles, tone dry, but he doesn’t attempt to move. If anything, he curls closer, comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms.

“They’ll wait,” Harry assures him. “You’re the guest of honor after all.”

“We’re _both_ the guests of honor.”

“And we’re both late.” Harry helps Draco sit up, checks the buttons on his robes, straightens his collar. “Perhaps it’s time we make an entrance together.”

Draco blinks, tilts his head, chin lifted in uncertainty. “ _Together_?” he asks.

It’s time the public knew that this very well-known joint venture is more than a business partnership. Harry offers his hand, tangles his fingers with Draco’s and helps him up. “Together,” he confirms. “For now, and going forward. You aren’t just redeemed, Draco. You’re _mine_.”

Draco snorts softly. “Perhaps it’s _you_ that is _mine_.”

“Perhaps.” Harry smirks. “Either way, let’s go get this speech made. And when we’re done, we have a date with a bed, so we can do this all over again.”

Draco smoothes his robes, runs his fingers through his hair to put it roughly back into place, but Harry can still see. He can see the tracks of his fingers, the bite of the bark along Draco’s palms. He can see the evidence of what they have done, the marks that claim Draco as belonging to Harry. And as they enter the room hand in hand, he knows that if anyone else happens to see as well, no one will doubt where Draco belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and talk to me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


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